Waiting for the Sun
by sadpartyboy
Summary: In the summer of 1966, Margot's boyfriend had been drafted into the Vietnam War. Margot now finally has the ability to explore different realms and ideas without her boyfriend guiding her in the direction he believed was right Her friend invites her to Margot's first-ever club to get drunk for the first time. Will she explore the outer realms and meet the man of her dreams?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Blue Sunday

Her clammy, cold hand touched his bare arm.

"Please don't leave." Margot whimpered, her head hanging towards the ground. She feared that if she looked up, she would realize that the moment was real.

"It's what God intended for me to do, Margot. Don't worry, I'll be fine. Pray for me."

Margot hated when Andrew brought religion into a serious situation, and this habit of his left her somewhat relieved that he was leaving her. This way, she would no longer hear someone talk about the religion she had so closely followed as a child.

He stood in the dingy apartment's empty hallway. Despite its inherent dreariness, Margot had secured it cheap in a convenient spot on Sunset Strip that would allow her to bike her way to UCLA and back.

The apartment was one room and her old mattress lay stranded in the middle of the floor. Her frameless bed was surrounded by books and sketchbooks that she had filled to the brim with the philosophies and drawings that sloshed and bred in her mind, yearning to be split onto the pages of any journal she could get her hands on.

Her kitchen connected to her room and consisted of a few blocks of tile with a stove and a refrigerator.

Then there was the bathroom that only consisted of a toilet and a sink. Much to Margot's dismay, this forced her to have to go to the girls' UCLA dorm room's showers if she wished to maintain basic human hygiene. Yet, no matter how small her apartment was compared to the dorm rooms, she still preferred it more. She could never properly work around large groups of people.

Still, she kept her eyes averted from Andrew's, as she turned towards the window to see the dark blue sky trickle through her window, making her white mattress look like it was sinking into the ocean. She wasn't scared of losing Andrew. She was scared of not having the comfort of knowing someone would be there for her.

The two of them had hardly had a real conversation since they started dating in their senior year of high school; their dates consisted of him asking her trivial questions about her day and asking if he could hold her hand. Perhaps Andrew wasn't quite the problem, however, seeming as Margot never seemed to get excited around anyone. She reasoned that this was because of the simple fact that she was bored.

She was so bored.

Her entire life was filled with religious zealots telling her what she couldn't or could be. She started to realize, once she reached her early teens, that people used religion not only as a way to explain their existence but as a way to let a book, written a million years ago by tiny men in robes, control all aspects of their life in which they were afraid to have autonomy. She wished that Andrew wasn't so religious and that he let his family's religion stay in Sacramento.

She shook her head as she realized what was happening. She turned towards her boyfriend, emotionless, and replied.

"Come back alive."

He responded with what he always responded with when she let out a somewhat emotional sentence. Andrew placed his hand on her shoulder and tilted his head.

"I love you, Margot."

Margot was no longer taken aback by that sentence. It was apart of the daily routine. It had no meaning. She regretted having that feeling towards the sentence that so often left his mouth. She knew they didn't love each other. Love could never be so bland. Love was thing poets dreamt about while they jotted bewitching words down on crumpled up notebook paper. Not a boring daily routine that made Margot feel so disconnected from the man she called her boyfriend. They might as well be strangers

"I love you too." Margot cringed at saying those words. It sounded so wrong to say such powerful words to a person she barely knew.

Margot realized his hand was drifting towards her cheek to push a string of hair behind her ear. This was the most intimate they had ever been other than the moments he would peck her on the lips.

"When I come back, can you grow out your hair? It looks better longer." He retrieved his hand back to its comfortable stance in his pocket.

She looked away from his glance again. She cut her hair once she had gotten out of high school to feel what it was like to no longer have the long hair that weighed on her shoulders. She wanted to cut her hair short since she was a child, but her mother wanted Margot to look feminine and short hair was not feminine.

Andrew shared many commonalities with Margot's mother. They both liked things a certain way and strived for this authority over others. However, Andrew was more loving than Margot's mother. Margot's mother had never touched her unless it was a slap on the wrist for doing something beyond the realm of that which she taught. Maybe Margot wanted Andrew because he reminded her of her mother who she sought validation from. That was another thing Andrew and Margot's mother had in common: their lack of endorsement.

"Goodbye, Margot." Andrew turned his back to her, as he opened the door. The disconnection between them growing wider until he swung the door close.

"Goodbye, Andrew." She huffed under her breath as she pulled out a wrinkled case of Marlboro cigarettes from her pocket.

It was now very common for Margot to smoke cigarettes ever since she had found out the news that the one man who gave her the slightest bit of attention was being drafted. She was scared of being alone. She feared that Andrew was the only person who made her feel connected to society, and if he left that she would become a hermit to the world she felt so bored. She watched the sun come setting over the lucent building as she blew the fluid smoke into the air. He was gone… and she didn't even care.

Margot remembered the day they met. A cold, crisp Friday night at the end of January. The gym, in which the dance was being held, blew a fuse and the heater had broken. The little Catholic girls wore their white dresses that puffed at their shoulders and ended at their toes. The boys' suits were tailored and ironed, not a wrinkle in sight. Their suits were pale blue which resembled the color of what a newborn baby boy would wear to his first family gathering. We were children even if we were seniors in high school.

My blunt bangs covered my eyebrows and my face was expressionless. I knew the routine of these dances. I would sit for hours on an uncomfortable chair from the cafeteria still covered with crumbs from Lays chips. I would twiddle my thumbs until a boy who was too young for me would ask me to dance. I was tugged along by their arms as they pushed me along to the music. They would eventually get bored with my cold demeanor and ask a girl much more attuned with her emotions to dance.

She sat down on the seat, trying to wipe off the leftover crumbs off my butt to make myself a little more comfortable. A boy sat next to her, and, instead of offering me to dance with him, he asked her name and took an interest in the girl so many boys were afraid of. He asked Margot out on a date and since that day her weekends were filled with the monotony of coffee shops and small talk. Miraculously, she was able to remember their unremarkable first kiss. It was quick almost as if he was in a hurry to get it over with. They were both in a hurry to get our relationship over with.

Margot hung onto those thoughts the following days. She spent her afternoons in college classes either getting her fingers dirty with graphite or paint or jotting notes down for art history. Art history was an interesting class for Margot. The girl who sat next to Margot was a bubbly narcissist and she had every right to be. The girl was the epitome of natural beauty only ever seen wearing a little mascara and lipgloss on her plump lips. She had that dirty blonde hair and tan skin that told you she was born of the Californian coast. She was taller than Margot standing about 5'6 over Margot's 5'3 body. She was lithe and yet still have the curves that made her such a sex symbol in the art department of UCLA. She had bright green eyes and a mischevious smile that made most men feel their pants get tighter. Not only that but this girl was a partier, obsessed with the hippie movement and expanding her mind with drugs. The girl's name was Nancy. A boring name for a fascinating girl.

Nancy had taken a liking to Margot the second she saw her. Not only did their appearances differ but their personalities as well. Every art history class, Nancy would list numerous amounts of personal questions to Margot. Margot always answered honestly which fascinated Nancy even more.

She sat next to Margot in exhilaration to differentiate Margo's nihilism. Nancy stamped her hand on the desk, showing off a flyer to a concert that would be that very night. Nancy's light pink nail polish contrasted the flyer's dark colors showing the name of the band: The Doors.

"Tonight's the night!" Nancy exclaimed, plopping into her seat beside Margot.

"What do you mean?" Margot knew exactly what she meant. Ever since meeting Nancy at the beginning of the semester she had been obsessed with getting Margot drunk and have her see what a real club was like.

Nancy ignored Margot's question and continued to play with her hair as she explained to Margot what the night would be filled with.

"My friend said the lead singer is a real trip. It's at the Whisky A Go-Go. It's pretty small but always jam-packed. We could easily get in since I can win anyone over with my feminine attributes. We could get you some vodka and get you drunk real quick." Nancy giggled with excitement.

Margot let Nancy treat her like a toy and she did whatever Nancy wanted. She was interested in the idea of exploring the unknown. It scared her but it exhilarated her even more. She would be able to bite the forbidden fruit. Oh, and how sweet it would taste.

She drifted off into thought dreaming of all the rebellious and careless messes she could get herself into that she never experienced as a teenager. She wanted to experience them so badly. To have a man take her virginity, the sweet sting of alcohol bubbling in your throat and the metaphysical experience of dropping acid for the first time.

After art history, Nancy dragged Margot into her dorm room, pushing her onto the bed as she reached for the doorknob of her closet. Margot grew up in a highly, sophisticated family and was given money from her daddy to lie about her studies and how she was studying Roman sculpting. Her closet was filled to the brim with different styles and the lucid colors of the hippie age. She laid a dress down beside Margot's small frame.

"Since the moment I saw you, I knew this would be your dress." Nancy looked Margot in the eyes and gave her a look of true genuineness.

The dress was tight fighting, the high cut dress that stopped at her mid-thigh and was checkered with black and white blocks which made Margot feel right at home. Her wardrobe mainly consisted of different shades of grey, white and black. Margot couldn't help but feel her cheeks turn hot remembering that Nancy picked this dress specifically for her and that it was something that symbolized Margot. She never felt so special before.

The afternoon was filled with Nancy applying makeup to Margot's bare face and trying on heels that let Margot still have the ability to walk home drunk. Margot's makeup was what Nancy called the "Naturally Pretty" look. It was neutral brown eyeshadows staked on her eyes, blush, mascara and a nude shade of pink lipstick. And with that, Nancy wrapped her arm around Margot's and whispered.

"Into the Unknown."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Break on Through

The lucid lights of the Whiskey A-Go-Go showed off a deep red, reflecting the outside walls of the building. It stood on the corner of the street like a Roman god towering over the people of Los Angeles with young aspirations and creative breakthroughs. The Whiskey A-Go-Go was the epitome of LA and what it stood for: a land of new beginnings.

The front wall was covered in a collage of flyers, whipping in the air. The only thing connecting them to oblivion and existence was a small tack.

Nancy's soft hands hadn't let go of Margot's as she dragged her from the college dorms of UCLA to the front entrance of the Whiskey A-Go-Go. Margot didn't know what to expect but the confidence of the building and Margot's lack of experience in clubs made her fear the future. She knew this would change her. For better or for worse, she didn't know.

At the entrance, Nancy was quickly spotted by drunk middle-aged men and was greeted with a flurry of hands and a cloud of eyes clamoring to meet her. To this, she only responded with giggles. Nancy whispered to Margot, her hot breath tickling Margot's ear.

"Go sneak in. I'll hold them off." Nancy winked, initiating the plan.

Margot's small frame let her sneak into large groups of men and women who were quickly let into the Whiskey A-Go-Go for their familiarity and patronage at the club since its opening.

The main dance floor of the club was crowded with young girls ranging from sixteen to about twenty-five. There was a ledge separating the dance floor to that of the men and women sitting in booths, too old to dance or too self-respecting to let themselves go like the young women.

The group of men and women Margot had snuck in with had pushed her into the crowd of young girls by accident. It was easy to push Margot over with her 100-pound body and 5'3 stance.

Margot fell into a young woman about the same age as herself. She was skinny and tall with a freckled nose bridge and doe eyes, likened to that of Twiggy. She glared over her shoulder at Margot and rolled her eyes, continuing to talk to her friend about how badly she wanted to sleep with the lead singer. The band wasn't on yet and the young girls stood in anticipation either wanting to get in bed with the band's frontman or be teased by their friends' comment to come along and meet this beast of a man.

Margot felt a hand grab her shoulder, and she quickly turned to see Nancy who still maintained her mischievous smile. Nancy wore a cropped white blouse that was almost sheer and a long multicolored skirt that ended at her ankles. Any person high on hallucinogens would stare at her skirt for hours to just understand one of the many patterns it possessed.

"Wow, you already have a grasp of the general concept of a club," Nancy replied and pulled Margot out of the dancefloor. She carried Margot to the bar and planted herself on a barstool. She leaned over the counter, pushing her breasts together to make her cleavage more pronounced.

"Two shots of vodka, please," Nancy smirked at the bartender and tapped her fingers on the bar. Margot stood behind Nancy and let her mind be overloaded with multiple different senses. Information overload was something Margot wasn't used to.

"Once they get on, we're going back to the dance floor."

Nancy crooked her head back and swung the clear liquid into her mouth and Margot copied. Her throat stung. The vodka on her tongue tasted like how nail polish remover smelled in her poorly ventilated apartment. Her mind started to slow and the movement of girls jumping was slowed in her vision, making the girls seem like they were flying. Nancy grabbed Margot's hand and threw her onto the dancefloor, making Margot's life flash before her eyes. She felt her lips turn into a smile. This was the first time in awhile Margot smiled. The rush of being alive and in the moment was almost orgasmic.

Then the deep hum of an organ shook the Whiskey A-Go-Go and, as the curtains opened, young girls squealed. The lead singer had curly, long dark brown hair that touched the collar of his white button-down shirt. His low brow bone shadowed his eyes, making him seem so intimidating and powerful that any woman would succumb. He wore tight leather pants that outlined his crotch. The lead singer resembled a statue of Alexander the Great, specifically that of the statue from the Pella museum. Margot had a great interest in Alexander the Great and his assertiveness and position in art in the Hellenistic Age. The lead singer was the spitting image of Alexander, not only for his looks but also for his overwhelming amount of confidence.

"What's his name?" Margot inquired to Nancy and in response, she shrugged.

"Jim Morrison, dumbass." A girl responded from the crowd of groupies so obsessed with Jim that he has their whole world in the palm of his hand. Margot sensed he liked that kind of power. Just like Alexander the Great.

The music was fluid like the smoke of a Marlboro cigarette on a dead morning on the Sunset Strip, sketching the sunrise and contemplating the purpose of the human race. But it was also, an awakening of the mind and senses to a reality beyond what humans could think was obtainable.

The music reminded Margot of when she reached a coming of age in her young teens when she read the Book of Revelations. The Book of Revelations was the last book of the Bible and entailed the end of the world. Margot's mother had forced Margot into reading the Bible, possessing the idea that Margot wouldn't regard the Book of Revelations as high as she eventually would. The following nights after finishing the Bible, Margot would have violent dreams about warfare and found herself pondering the ideas of death and mortality. The ideas and dreams scared her, but for the most part, made her whole body tingle with curiosity and excitement.

Jim was the angel of death drifting Margot into the spirit realm while feeding her the delights of mortality. Margot wanted so badly to touch him. To grasp him in her hands and let him guide her into the unknown

Nancy glanced over at Margot, only now realizing Margot's admiration for the lead singer. Margot's eyes never glanced over to Nancy's, too distracted with the Greek hero standing on stage. Nancy grabbed Margot's hand and pushed her to the front of the stage, making Margot look like a pinball in a pinball machine as she was pushed and thrust into the front of the stage, almost being knocked out by hitting her head against one of the small floor speakers on stage.

Margot put her hand on the part of her head that was banged against the speaker and looked up. The music was a lot more pronounced up so close and when he turned to her side of the stage, Margot felt herself become small. She was so little compared to his towering body on stage, but he excited her. The first feeling of powerful sexual excitement she had had. Margot felt her chest get tighter as he maintained his gaze with hers. Margot's mouth was slightly open beginning to be kissed by this angel of death.

Jim kneeled and kept his eye contact as he sang the lines:

_Arms that chain us, Eyes that lied_

His eyes were intense and dark in the warm yellow lighting of the stage. He stared her up and down with a smirk across his lips. Margot wanted so badly to be touched by him. That excitement she wanted to find and that ability to question everything was in this one man. This one god of a man. Margot wanted Jim to pull her away and kiss her passionately backstage while they spoke about the purpose of her creation and his.

Margot felt a hand from behind her firmly grasp her shoulder and pull her to the floor. Her head crash-landed on the black, smooth flooring of the dancefloor, and she felt what seemed like a boulder hit the bridge of her nose. The room around her was getting tighter and tighter until the hand from above the crowd reached out to Margot and pulled her out of her hell.

Nancy held Margot close to her as she felt her body becoming slower and heavier with pain. The blood from her nose dripped onto the floor and became a puddle. Nancy pulled Margot onto the ledge that divides the booths and bar from the dancefloor.

"Your nose isn't broken but you got one hell of a nosebleed from that bitch's…" Margot drowned out Nancy's voice and turned to see Jim looking at her, smirking. Margot didn't know how to react and drifted off into his dark eyes that were covered by the shadow of his brow bone. She realized the blood dripping from her nose and quickly wiped it away. Nancy pulled her along while Margot dragged out Jim's glance until she was pulled out of the club.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: You're Lost, Little Girl

The bridge of Margot's nose was bruised for the following days and was slowly lightening as time passed. Her mind couldn't concentrate on any of her classes. Instead of working on the project assigned, Margot would sketch the night at the Whiskey A-Go-Go in a 3" by 5" sketchbook she had bought in a small shop in Sacramento. Margot's memory remembered things she deemed important in almost exact detail. The drawings were surreal but so were the Doors. They were her muse. Especially Jim.

He was everything she had searched for her entire life, and now he was gone. That night was all that she wanted to replay in her head. He was an angel sandwiched between heaven and hell.

—

Nancy was talking Margot's ear off in art history knowing full well that Margot was drowning her out. She daydreamed of Jim running his fingers through her hair and whispering poetry in her ear. How badly she wanted to be held by him. To be his girl.

The next morning, Margot had gotten ready for her new job as a waitress in a small breakfast cafe on the Sunset Strip. She was grateful to have a job and not have to be owned by her parents' money. She put on her classic light grey turtleneck and her black and white plaid mini skirt, yet Margot was in such a rush, she had no time to consider its shortness. She put on an old pair of black flats she had gotten at the age of fifteen.

Margot hadn't grown since she hit her puberty peak in eighth grade. Her small B cup breasts and small frame were an example of this. If someone looked at her body, she would still seem fourteen but her face was another story.

Margot had deep-set eyes and a resting nihilistic facial expression that served her no good in getting boys in highschool. Her irises were so dim, they were almost black.

Margot quickly headed out the door of her dingy apartment and down the stairs to the streets of LA. She placed herself on the rusty, pale, yellow bike she had gotten at a thrift store for fifteen bucks. It worked. That's all that mattered.

The cafe was old and beat up with a modern coverup to hide its age. The cafe was frequently called Mickey's because of the owner Michael Romano, a fat, middle-aged man who had a thick Italian accent that at times you felt like he was talking in gibberish. He welcomed Margot in with open arms. When she applied for the job, Mickey would constantly remind her that she had similar personality traits as his daughter. He was a short man with a bad temper who kept his employees in check.

Margot quickly escaped to the backroom as she set her bike down at the back entrance of the cafe. She put on the blue-grey apron and stuck her sketchbook in the pocket of her mini skirt.

"Margot, give these to table three, please." The cook responded from the square hole in the wall as she entered the cafe.

"Yes, sir."

The four plates were filled with sausages, eggs, bacon, strata, and biscuits. Margot's apartment bill had gone up, and she hadn't eaten anything all day. Despite not quite being a relapse, it harkened back to her days of

Margot turned her head up to see the direction to table three then her heart stopped. Her feet locked in place and felt as if she was in quicksand and couldn't escape. Her muse was there in his shining glory. His lips pursed in boredom as he listened to his bandmates, drifting off into space. His brown curls covered his eyes as he wrote something in a notepad in his lap.

"Margot, hurry up!" Mickey's hand touched Margot's back and made her jump back into reality.

The feeling of being starstruck was something Margot had never experienced. Her legs trembled over, her mind trying to re-concentrate on balancing the plates on her arms rather than the band that sparked her like a match. She was thankful enough to have reached the table without dropping any plates. The way her hands shook as she set the plates down was obvious to the band members who stared at Margot curiously, all except for Jim. He kept looking at the notepad in his lap. He still wore the same outfit he wore that night at the Whiskey A-Go-Go.

"Umm… I-I" She felt her forehead begin to sweat and then blurted out, "I was there at the Whiskey A-Go-Go and you guys were amazing. I've been completely inspired by you."

Jim looked up at Margot, his eyes wide with curiosity and taken back by her directness. Margot caught his glance and she now realized he had blue eyes. His brow bone shadowed over his eyes allowing onlookers to only imagine what was going on behind them. Was he imagining ways to brutally murder all those around him in a single blow? He intimidated Margot, but that was the basis of his appeal.

She placed the sketchbook in her pocket on the table, gesturing for one of the members to explore the extent of their influence. Jim took the bait and began to flip through the pages, his eyes focused and intent on absorbing each stroke of the pen.

"This is good." He said in a whisper-like voice. Margot started to fall deeper and deeper into him, with his over-pronunciation of words. It felt as if he was choosing them especially to make Margot swoon.

"Ma'am, can I have some more coffee?" An old man's voice from behind her asked and Margot tried to quickly grab her sketchbook, but Jim grabbed her wrist, send shivers down her spine. His hands were rough, and his grip was painful. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He was touching her.

"Leave it." Jim looked into her eyes with hunger and excitement and let go of her wrist.

Jim's bandmates stared at the pages with him. Jim was stuck on one page which was a drawing of him standing over a skeleton. He stood like Saint Michael the archangel, with a microphone in his hand, looking up at the sky, with flowers surrounding his feet. Margot prayed and pleaded that he would like it. She never so badly wanted to be validated by someone she barely knew.

Margot turned around a fetched the old man his coffee. She continued to bring people their food and coffee, keeping her peripheral vision on the band as they flipped through the sketchbook's pages. Jim would occasionally catch Margot's eye with a lingering, curious stare. She realized this and made sure her awkward quirks weren't quite as noticeable, as she answered tables. She turned her back for about five minutes until she heard the bell chime of the door opening. She swung herself around and saw the band walking out the door, leaving her forever. She felt defeated. Not a single word. Not a single glance.

Margot went over to clean table three. She stacked the plates on top of each other to then realized. They took her sketchbook.

Margot felt a smile run across her face. She still had a chance. Once her shift ended, she would search all over the Sunset Strip for Jim, using the alibi: "You took my sketchbook."

The shift couldn't end any slower. Her eyes shifted from the clock down to her assignment at hand. Margot felt as though Jim was staring at her from corners and creeks, but it was simply her imagination. Her guardian angel watching over her. The image of Jim pulling her away from her previous to a new life full of splendor and chaos was what kept her attentive.

Finally, she felt a friendly hand grasp her shoulder.

"Your shift is done, Margot. Go home and get some rest." Mickey was warm and protective like the father Margot could only dream of.

Margot's father was Welsh, and she inherited most of her physical traits from him with his dark eyes and hair. Her personality was so similar to her father, that she started to despise herself for it. She did everything she could to please her father as a child, even letting him take naps as Margot watched over her little brother. Yet he never repaid the favor.

The car rides she spent with her father were filled with silence, and sometimes the occasional question asked by Margot about her his day. To these, he would only reply with a single shrug. The only difference was that Margot wasn't as lifeless as her father was. Life was all she had. And she lusted for it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Light My Fire

Margot had gotten off of work at 5 pm with retrieving her sketchbook being her only evening plans. She took a long drag of her cigarette, imagining ways for her to get Jim's attention. That's all she wanted. She wanted his undivided attention. She wanted him to pull her in close and whisper the secrets of the earth in her ear.

She found her way to the nearest phone booth on the Sunset Strip and dialed the number of Nancy's dorm room with hesitation.

Would Nancy think she was a slut for wanting to change herself to make him notice her? Or would she lose all of her appeal to Nancy who would lose her doll? The abrupt connection of the telephone line interrupted Margot's thoughts.

"Hello?" Nancy's sweet, bird-like voice asked.

"Umm… Hi, it's Margot, Nancy."

"Hi, Margot! What do you need?"

"Can I borrow something to wear?"

And with that, Margot was off to the UCLA dorms on her light-yellow, old bike, the cigarette still held between her lips. She arrived drenched in sweat from the Californian summer. The worst part about the state she called home was that the sun here could weigh on Margot's pale, easily-burnt skin to a degree simply unseen elsewhere. She took her shower as she normally did: shaving, preparing herself for the future. She carried herself to Nancy's room and was greeted with a warm smile.

"So? What's the purpose of this?"

Margot let that question hang in the air as she crossed her arms and let her gaze fall to the floor. What was the purpose of this? Was she setting herself up for disappointment? Would he reject her, leaving her desperate to follow him into the unknown? Was this all for nothing?

Nancy had realized that Margot had gone cold again. She'd been finding it easier and easier to recognize her friend's moments of anxiety symptoms.

"Hey, you don't have to tell me. Lemme just pick something out for you."

Margot sat on the edge of the bed and watched Nancy sort through her clothes which were a kaleidoscope of colors and patterns. Margot pushed her anxious thoughts to the back of her mind and prayed for everything to work out. If there was a god, this was the only real wish that she prayed for that she needed. She needed this. She needed this so badly.

Nancy didn't speak to Margot or ask prying questions. She simply laid down a black sleeveless, turtleneck mini dress that rode up Margot's legs. She wasn't used to showing so much skin but she enjoyed it. She enjoyed being able to show what feminine attributes she almost had.

Nancy watched Margot put on the dress with anticipation for what she would think of herself in such a revealing dress. Nancy couldn't believe how Margot was growing up right before her eyes, even though they had just met a couple of months ago. Margot was her doll, but Nancy still wanted her doll to be happy.

"One last thing," Nancy gave Margot a pair of 4 inch black high heels.

Nancy bit her lip, everything seemed to be going so fast. Margot was growing up too quickly. She wasn't ready to be alone, venturing out into the unknown be herself. Margot slid the high heels on and turned to Nancy waiting for her to give her some sort of insight of wisdom.

"Be careful, Margot."

"I'm gonna be okay, Nancy."

Nancy ushered Margot out of her room, quickly, catching Margot off guard. She could tell something was off about Nancy. Her friend was so rigid and quiet now. Margot pushed away those thoughts about Nancy and made her way to the sunset strip on her bike. Nancy only wanted to use Margot as a doll. She was only there to supply Margot with clothes and advice. Margot believed this. She started to convince herself that her only necessity was Jim. He would solve everything.

The next three hours Margot spent searching bars up and down the Sunset Strip on her bicycle, making her legs chaff. She was sweaty and embarrassed by the number of comments she was getting on her outfit. It was the definition of revealing and at times when Margot sat on her bike, her underwear would peak through her legs which caused men to whistle and howl.

She continued up and down Sunset Strip, but there was still no sign of Jim in the windows of crowded, rundown bars, run by cheap liquor and beer. Margot had to be precise about which bar she step foot in because there wasn't an unlikelihood that a dodgy bar could be her chance at getting raped. She wasn't going to let that happen.

It had reached midnight, and Margot was wound up with emotion. She spent so long and it amounted to nothing. She felt herself slump into the bike's seat. Margot had never experienced such powerful feelings in her lifetime. She was pushed by the overwhelming need to feel emotion her entire life, but her mother held her back. She now could grasp that dream but she started to realize how much she despised feeling. It hurt.

She drifted herself into the nearest bar, her mind in a daze. Alcohol solved her problems the night of Whiskey A-Go-Go, maybe it could again. Alcohol was warmth and comfort. Margot was comforted by depressants. They made her feel numb and emotionless. Margot never wanted to experience pain, like losing her only muse, again. It was too much.  
She slumped into the barstool and pressed her forehead against the cold tile of the bar countertop. Her sweaty body was comforted by the cold compress. Her eyes reached up to the bartender's own.

"Vodka on the rocks, thanks."

Margot was too mentally exhausted to focus on the bartender and the men that surrounded her. She didn't care anymore. If she got raped, so be it. There was no purpose in trying to succeed in life anymore. She had lost her way and there was no other path in sight. No point. No future. No Jim.

The chime of the opening of the barn door was proceeded by the chants of excitement. The raucous caused Margot's head to pound and she was greeted by the amiable face of vodka, her new best friend. There was no point in turning around to see what the enthusiasm was about. All Margot had was ice-cold vodka and the comforting pain it brought to her now stinging throat.

"You really chugged that thing down, huh," replied a familiar voice and Margot's ears perked.

Margot felt her eyes beginning to water as she spun her chair around to face the voice. It was Jim. He was finally here. It was going to be okay again. She felt the hot tears running down her face as she quickly wiped them off with her arm, making sure he didn't notice. Margot's fight or flight response was kicking in, now realizing her situation. She felt her gasp at his intense gaze and her eyes fell to her lap.

"U-umm… can I please have my sketchbook back?"

The words were piercing into her skin and her cheeks heated up with embarrassment. She was too socially awkward for her own good and now, she just made a foul out of herself in front of the one person who has affected her life the most.

A smirk crawled across his face as Jim moved closer to hers. She could smell the whiskey and cigarette musk that came off of him, and she couldn't get enough of it. She would bathe in the smell if she could. His leather jacket was tight around his arms and intensified his outer look. He was a Greek god. A sculpture. A man this perfect couldn't be real.

"See, the thing is, girl, I really like the little book and would prefer to keep it. I mean, you did give it to me after all. But I will bargain with you in order for you to win it over. Just give me ten minutes with you and I'll give it back."


	5. Chapter5

Chapter 5: Touch Me

Margot didn't know how to respond. She had to be dreaming. She wasn't used to such powerful presences like Jim's. His eyes pierced into Margot and she couldn't help but look away. If she stared at him for any longer, she would burst.

"o-okay…" Margot felt the words slip from her lips and Jim wrapped his arm around her and pulled her out of the bar. His musk was even stronger now and Margot felt her knees go weak. The presence of his touch almost felt inhuman. Margot had never felt such a grasp from any other human. She couldn't act normal around him and he knew it.

"hey, calm down." He paused between each word, making sure it had an affect.

Margot pressed her back against the large window of the bar and looked up at the stars. She had so much to say but she was being backtracked by his dominating presence.

"You don't fit in that dress." Jim added, scooching his body closer to hers, his back against the window.

"What do you mean?" Margot turned to him, their gazes meeting.

"You shouldn't pretend to be someone you're not. It doesn't match up."

Margot felt her chest tighten. He caught her. She didn't feel comfortable in this dress and he could tell.

"Here." Jim ripped off his copper leather jacket and handed it to her with ease. He wore a white button down with the buttons undone to his collarbones.

Margot hands shook as she grasped the leather jacket in her hands. She wanted to hold it onto her forever. She wanted to use it as a pillow while she slept on the old run down mattress as she dreamt of Jim's whispers.

Margot pushed her hands through the slots on either side and felt herself melt in the worn in leather.

"That looks better." Jim remarked, placing a cigarette between his full lips and lighting it. His face was illuminated by the flame and his eyes gazed up to hers with a devilish grin.

"Can I have one?" Margot whimpered like a puppy begging for his attention.

"A good girl like you shouldn't be smoking." Jim placed the cigarette in Margot's slightly opened mouth and lit it with a small automatic lighter he hid in his tight leather pants.

"I wanna try new things." Margot spat out quickly knowing that he already understood she was an amateur.

"Come, I wanna show you something." Jim uttered turning his back to Margot and walking up the sidewalk and, like an obedient servant, Margot followed.

He led her to an empty parking garage, overflowing with graffiti and smoke from the blunts of young teenagers. Jim snuck himself onto the stairs and Margot proceeded. She found herself getting weak step by step as they climbed three flights of stairs.

Jim rubbed the pockets of his tight leather jeans and pulled out a small, rusty key that fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. The door to the roof of the parking garage was locked, as expected, but Jim opened it with ease as if he had done it plenty of times before.

There was silence as Margot was pulled along by Jim's large, rough hands collapsing hers as he directed her towards the edge of the rooftop. She could feel every line on his rough palm. His lips pursed as he picked Margot off her feet by her love handles and placed her on the edge. Margot felt a surge of heat fill her body from his touch and she felt her cheeks fill with red. Tears surged into her eyes again. He caused her to feel a clusterfuck of emotions. She didn't know whether fear or lust was in control of her now.

"God, you're so innocent." Jim responded, his long, shaggy brown hair falling onto Margot's shoulder and he laid his head in the crook of her shoulder. His hot breath warmed Margot's ear while sending shivers down her spine.

"with those big dark eyes... I want to fill you with chaos and disorder and make you mine."

Before Margot could comment Jim's thumb pressed against her bottom lip, making her mouth slowly open.

"Stick out your tongue." Jim demanded as he wrapped his hand around the back of Margot's neck to tilt her head upward. Margot did as he asked and stuck out her tongue. He placed what Margot saw as a small translucent piece of paper onto her tongue.

"Let it happen, baby. Take it as it comes."

Margot felt her breath grow harsher. Her gaze seemed to stay on Jim's crystal blue eyes as her body began to grow heavy. Her mind was racing with the ideas of immortality. If she jumped off this building, she would fly. Her body tingled with excitement. Jim's presence had overpowered her hallucinogenic high and Margot began to realize how pale he looked in the moonlight. Her eyes became wide as she realized what was happening but it was too late. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell to the ground. A once dominant, alluring being had now become that of a child.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Newborn Awakening

Margot's eyes widened as she saw Jim collapse. She felt her mind start to panic as she huddled over him. She shook his arm lightly.

"Jim?"

He didn't budge. Margot began to be concerned about what he had taken and pressed her ear against his chest, looking for a pulse. His chest was warm and comforting and she felt herself wanting to stay in her position forever. However, she quickly snapped out of this, realizing the situation. She heard the calm pace of a heart beat and the sigh of relief fled her mouth.

"He's just drunk."

She bent over and wrapped her arms around him, struggling to lift him. Once she had gotten him off the ground, Margot maneuvered his arms over her shoulders.

She had never tried so hard before. The amount of effort she was putting in to help a person who she was not close with was shocking. What made him so different from everyone else?

She trudged through the border of the hallucinations caused by the drug he had given her, but the weight of his body grounded her to reality. Margot's head began to pound again and her strength started to weaken. She was so close to bringing him home. Home? Margot's apartment isn't his home. Why did she think that?

She felt her eyes start to water as she pushed herself up the steps to her apartment. God, she was so close. Once she had reached her floor, a smile drifted onto Margot's face. She made it. They made it.

She quickly pushed the key and slammed open the door. Margot collapsed onto the mattress, Jim following. His heavy body fell onto her back, and she pushed him off weakly. Her hands pressed against his chest, and she realized just how skinny Jim was. Her hands rubbed his chest, feeling every bone on his rib cage. Her eyes swelled up in tears. Her heart cracked.

"Who did this to you?"

Margot shut her eyes and let the tears flow. The warmth of his chest felt orgasmic against her hand. How badly she wanted to touch him. Yet, he was so small in her arms. No longer did he tower over her, now he was limp and dependent on Margot. She loved it. Her mind combated with each emotion she faced in such intensity. She kept her eyes closed, hoping that her body would calm if she was not stimulated by looking at Jim.

A hand caressed her cheek; the hand's thumb pressing against her lips.

"Sweet angel, let me touch you."

Margot felt her body be flipped over onto the mattress, her back pressed against the bed. He had both his hands wrapped around her wrists. Jim's body suddenly became large again as he shadowed over her. His curls dangled in front of his eyes, staring at her intensely. Her body became weak. She had never felt so small.

A mysterious feeling began to build up in Margot. Her heart pounded in her chest. She was scared. This feeling had come to her in the nights of puberty stricken years while she laid in bed and wished for someone, anyone, to touch her. This was her first time. Her chest tightened and she began to realize she couldn't breathe. Everything was moving so fast.

"You're a virgin. Aren't you?"

Jim whispered huskily in her ear. Her face turned red. How could he tell? Was it because she wasn't talking? How do people act in situations like this? Her eyes widened as he stared back down at her. What was he thinking?

He let go of her wrists and smirked down at her. Margot knew he could tell that she was bothered by his teasing.

"You're so fun to play with."

Jim rolled off of her and fell back asleep, his back facing Margot. Her heart was still beating out of her chest; she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. Why did he do that? Why did he stop? Am I just a toy to him?

She pulled a cigarette out from her pocket and lit it with the few matches she had left. She took in a long drag and sighed.


End file.
